


The Fall of Joey Drew Studios

by EveryAlternateEnding



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BATIM, Gen, Ink Monster Bendy (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Joey Drew Studios, Norman Polk Backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 10:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20469620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryAlternateEnding/pseuds/EveryAlternateEnding
Summary: This is the story of how an empire fell. How people died. How a dimension of suffering was created.How did it all begin? With a few simple rituals, five poor souls, and two men who will stop at nothing to achieve their ends.Note: I'm not finishing this, and I don't necessarily still stand by the ideas expressed here about the characters.





	1. First Experiments

April 7th, 1941.

Sammy had never been to this part of town before. It was a poor-looking area, it was getting dark, and he was getting nervous. Joey Drew had always insisted that they meet in a different place every time, for secrecy's sake. Joey was late tonight, and it was spitting rain. Even so, the normally irritable man was calm. He took another drag on his cigarette, looked over his shoulder for the hundredth time, and propped himself against the brick wall behind him in attempt to look like he belonged in the rough part of town. He was used to this.

Amazing. He, the wimpy, white-collared Sammy Lawrence, was used to waiting around in strange, quiet areas for the opportunity to practice the occult. He could still remember the day that Joey Drew had invited him to his house, promising to show him the opportunity of a lifetime. What Joey had shown him that night would have converted the most cynical heart. Sammy had never been an atheist, but nor was he especially dedicated to religion- just a churchgoer who seldom thought about the supernatural any time but Sunday mornings. That night, however, he had seen it proven before his eyes that powers beyond his imagination- indeed, beyond the imagination of Christianity or any other religion he knew of, were very real, and very much entwined with the mortal world.

How had that turned into this? Sammy couldn't answer that. Joey had invited him over a second time, let him help with a few rituals performed in his house. Then he lent Sammy a book so that he could figure out what he wanted to do with his newfound powers. There was no point when his coming over had become an intentional weekly tradition, it just had. And then it came to the point where it wasn't just once a week, but generally multiple evenings that Sammy put into his new hobby. There were supplies to collect, secluded areas to find, and evidence to dispose of. Before he knew it, he was the one suggesting that the two of them go to the woods at night for the first spell involving animal sacrifice that either had ever performed. It had gotten to the point where Sammy's girlfriend was almost jealous of the man he now spent the bulk of his evenings with. Sammy and Joey were men of passion. They were not ones to go halfway on anything, and magic was no exception. But, their relationship had gone beyond just being partners in crime. It had turned out that Henry had been right all those years ago when he said that Joey Drew was a terrible boss but an incredible friend. Joey had wanted to keep their relationship at work and their relationship outside of it separate, and that was more than fine by Sammy. Despite his grievances at work, Sammy was greatly enjoying the man's personal company.

Finally, Joey pulled up beside Sammy. Sammy wordlessly got in. "Good evening," Sammy said. "Where are we going tonight?" Sammy never knew ahead of time, and tonight was no exception, especially since it was Joey's turn to pick the spells.

Joey smirked, never taking his eyes off the road. "The studio."

Sammy ground his teeth. "Why? I thought we were keeping work and life separate."

"Not anymore. I'm about to show you the greatest thing I ever have. By the end of this, oh... you're going to see things very differently indeed."

Sammy didn't know what to say to that. Joey was an intense and dramatic man, and it usually excited him outside of work almost as it annoyed him at work. "Interesting," he deadpanned. The duo pulled up to the studio. Joey pulled Sammy by the hand to the elevator and pushed the button to take them to the deepest floor, a massive smile on his face. Sammy had never been this deep in the studio before- he'd never had any reason to be. When the elevator finally stopped, what was revealed was only a door- large enough to be that of a garage and covered in decor that made it look almost regal, but nonetheless only a door. Joey unlocked it.

Behind the door was what almost looked like the inside of a factory. Gears and various mechanical parts were chugging along, and everything, including the floors and walls, were made from metal that looked quite recently installed. Yet, it also seemed like a temple. The walls were lined with glass tubes, some shooting ink into the ceiling above and some clean and empty, as though waiting to be filled with artifacts and put on display in a museum. "Welcome," Joey said, "to the ink machine."

"What...?" Sammy grumbled. "Look... I don't know what your deal is with this ink machine. And I'm trying to stay calm. I honestly am. But this thing is a major thorn in my side at work, and I really don't want to deal with it on my off time."

Joey's face fell a little, but he was still smiling. "Oh... Well. Sammy, I wanted to give this to you at the end of the night, but I guess I'll do it now. Catch." Joey dug something out of his pocket and tossed it to Sammy. He caught it.

"Office keys?"

"I've recently fired our director of finance. I don't want there to be any bad blood between us anymore, Sammy. So, I'm going to hole up whichever those math goons I promote in your office, and you're going to get this office. It's a ways from the music department, I know, but hey. It'll be quiet, it's far from the ink machine, and you won't have to deal with people popping in and out to use the pump switch."

"Thanks," he said, forcing some excitement into his voice. This was a surprising turn of events, and Sammy would have been thrilled if he didn't strongly suspect that there was a catch.

"So, are you willing to come deeper with me? This _will_ have to do with what we've doing together, these last few years."

Sammy looked at the welcomingly weird world he was about to be led into, and smiled. "Yes! I can't wait."

Joey led him through the strange, metallic halls and into a chamber in which the ink machine- or rather, the small, movable device he'd thought of as the ink machine- had been lowered. Movement caught Sammy's eye. In a corner was a cage containing a black, glossy figure that resembled a human without legs. It appeared to look up at Sammy apathetically.

"Joey? What is that?"

"That... is a new beginning. That is the first ink creature ever made. A willing volunteer I found for experimentation. The first thing I wanted to do is to simply see what the ink machine would do without any guidance. But tonight, we can do whatever we want with it."

Sammy cautiously reached through the bars of the cage and gave the creature a pat on the shoulder, earning himself a very inky hand, but no movement from the ink creature. "How?"

"Simply draw what you want him to be. He can be anything. Unfortunately, I've never figured out how to make him speak. He was mute as a human as well. But other than that, anything! We put him and an image into the machine, and bam! the subject of the drawing comes out. Try it." Joey passed Sammy a pen and a pad of lined paper.

"This has so much potential," he said to himself. With this machine, anyone could be allowed to change their bodies into anything they wanted. Sammy quickly drew a man with a broken leg. It wasn't a very good drawing, as Sammy was not a very experienced visual artist, but he thought it got the point across.

When the ink creature came out of that machine, it was a black and white drawing just like Sammy had drawn. It fell painfully to the ground and began to right itself, keeping off its bad leg. It turned to face Sammy, and showed itself to have its mouth sewn shut. Between that, and the fact it was covered in lines just like on the lined paper, made it a very creepy sight. "Hmm... we'll use unlined paper next time," Joey said. "And perhaps for tonight, we can use cartoon film. That ought to produce some pretty good results, eh, Sammy?"

Sammy was slightly creeped out, but more than that he was intrigued. "Yes. Please. Get anything that doesn't have a broken leg. Let's do this." Joey left to get the film. Sammy approached the ink creature. It looked at him with sad eyes. "Hey. Sorry, about breaking your leg. We'll get you fixed. Wow, after this, just imagine what we'll be able to fix!"

"Sammy? While I get some film, could you head to the infirmary and get a wheelchair to transport our little patient?"

"Yes. Sure thing!"

By the end of the night, the ink creature had been turned into a Boris, an Alice Angel, and every member of the Butcher Gang. Not a Bendy though: Joey said that that was asking for trouble. All had a stitched-up mouth. Sammy was so thrilled when the creature first emerged with two functional legs as a Boris. He'd wanted to try different injuries and disabilities out on the creature, since it was obvious that not everything could be solved if the volunteer's muteness couldn't. Joey refused. They couldn't mess up these reels, he said. Ah, well.

One thing did bother Sammy, though: once the ink creature had its legs back under it, it kept trying to get away. Joey said that it didn't matter if the person wanted to revoke consent. They needed to keep doing experiments in order to learn how to turn the creature back into a functioning human being. Until then, it couldn't leave because they couldn't give him a form that would allow him to live a normal life.

Sammy supposed it made sense. He supposed that the ends justified the means. More than that, though, the occult had become a passion- an addiction, almost- to him as much as music. He'd done ugly things to animals in the name of it. He just didn't want to stop.


	2. Suspicion

April 7th, 1941.

That morning, a great number of Joey Drew Studios employees received what could have been called a notice taped to their door. It read "meet me in the breakroom for a brief meeting," and it was signed, "Wally Franks."

A crowd gathered in the break room. It included most of the workers that had been hired near the time the studio was made, as those were the people that Wally knew and was comfortable disturbing. It also included anyone from the finance department that he wasn't too intimidated by to disturb. It did not include Joey Drew and it certainly didn't include Thomas Connor. The studio's haphazard custodian stood in the center of it all, looking as though he didn't know what to say. "So... this is about," he checked his hand for a note. "Grant Cohen. I was cleanin' the offices last night, and when it came to his, well, he'd covered the walls and floors in gibberish messages, and some of the furniture was thrown around. I really don't know a thing about mental health, but, uh, maybe you should avoid him today? Or be extra nice to him? I don't know, how do you tell if he's dangerous? What do you do when a person has had a mental breakdown?"

There was general chatter in response. Norman spoke over it. "I'll talk to him. He's not dangerous. He's just been struggling lately. Has he clocked in yet?"

Wally checked the machine. "No."

"Okay. Well, I'll do it over lunch, then."

"Y'sure that's a good idea? Y'know, since ya tend to..."

"He's used to me appearing suddenly. We've been friends for years."

"Alright. Uh, I guess everyone can go, then."

The crowd dispersed. Norman went to the music recording studio, along with Sammy Lawrence and everyone else who would be involved in the recordings that morning. While being a projectionist required a degree of technical skill, especially when the projector broke down, working the projector wasn't the most mentally stimulating job. Today he wished it were. It was very hard to keep his mind off of Grant.

They were each other's only friend in the studio, Norman for obvious reasons, Grant for how reclusive he tended to be. It made sense, then, why no one else had noticed that he wasn't doing too well. Actually, even Norman had a very difficult time getting the man to talk about how work was going. He'd usually say something like, "I don't want to talk about it," "we're having a good time, why ruin it," or "I don't want to worry you about it." Two weeks ago, Grant had seemed particularly upset, so Norman had finally pushed a little harder and gotten him to open up.

"It's been dreadful. Joey will kill me if anyone finds out, so don't tell anyone. But... the studio is not doing well. It's like Joey doesn't even know how money works! He seems to think that accounting is some kind of magic where I just move money around until it doesn't matter how much he spends on his 'special projects' and the studio is doing okay! I tried to tell him today that the studio couldn't take it much longer. I got a call from the IRS and had to beg them to give us until the end of the year. I went to Joey about it, and you know what he told me to do? Fudge the numbers, he said! In other words, commit _fraud._ I knew he wouldn't care that it's illegal, so I told him it wouldn't work, because at this point it wouldn't, and you know what he told me?" Grant's voice had gotten higher as he'd gone on, and there were tears in his eyes.

"What did he tell you?"

"He told me that if I quit, let this company go under, or gave him a reason to fire me, he'd blacklist me from every place in New York. So either I get to risk jail time, or I'll be unemployed and have to leave the city by the end of the year."

Norman wasn't sure what to say. Grant had become hysterical, and it was an annoying tendency of Norman's to forget how to have emotions when people were being hysterical. He'd been that way since childhood. "Sounds like now's a good time to hand out resumes. Maybe you could find something before the company goes down."

"Good idea. I'll try that. But Norman, if this company goes down, I have a plan, okay? I have enough money in the bank for a lot of child support and it's not like I'm worth much else to anyone. That's how I justify it. And I've wanted to do it a while."

"What? What's your plan?" Norman asked, sounding a fifth as distressed as he was.

"I've already said too much. I don't want to worry you."

"Well, If there's a reason to worried, I want to know."

Grant shook his head. "You don't have to worry. I told you, I'm getting out of here before this place goes down. Thanks for suggesting it. Anyhow, how are you doing?"

Norman had left it there, allowing Grant to change the subject. He hadn't known what to say. After the fact, he justified it to himself: it wasn't a problem anymore, Grant wasn't going to end up in that situation, so why ask what he'd do in it? But that was wrong. He should have said something.

Norman had been wallowing in guilt and worry when he heard Sammy's voice snap from the recording studio below him. "Norman! Shut off the Goddamn projector!"

"Sorry, Sammy," he replied, shutting it off. "You know, we both know you're going to spend an hour in your sanctuary at some point today. Could you do it now?"

Sammy's gaze softened. Maybe, Norman thought, Sammy could guess at why he was distracted. "Sure," he said softly. Norman nodded and turned on the projector.

Norman walked down the stairs to the sound of Sammy playing four instruments to get into the strange little room he called his sanctuary. He didn't have to look to know that everyone else who had been there was now settling in for an hour-long break. Wally Franks was sweeping up one of the halls he passed through, and didn't even blink when Norman asked to borrow his keys. Joey Drew Studios was a strange place, but the strangeness was routine, and they were all used to it. Norman had been working here since shortly after he'd managed to leave the cult he was born into. To him, the strangeness was almost comforting. He passed into the finances department, made his way to Grant's office, and knocked on the door. Nothing. He unlocked the door.

My, what he found inside. No one was there, but Wally hadn't been lying about the writing on the walls. Swarming, panicked messages about money and debt were all over two of the walls, all in red, black, and green sharpie and in Grant's handwriting. There was even writing on the floor. Suddenly, Norman heard the door behind him open.

Instinctively, Norman hid behind the door as it opened. "Yep, you can throw it all out," came Joey's perpetually chipper voice. "I fired him. If he didn't adequately clean out his office, then he has only himself to blame."

"As you say, boss," came Wally's voice.

"Good. Now, keep up the good work, and stop losing your keys, got it? It's getting a little annoying."

Wally agreed, then shut the door. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw Norman. "What are you doing here?!" Wally nearly screamed.

Norman was used to this. "Nothing. Thanks for the use of your keys." He then gave Wally his keys back and left the office.

"Uh, okay. Sorry for yellin'...?"

Norman ignored Wally's confused voice and continued down the hall, keeping a neutral look on his face. This... this was bad. Grant had said he had a plan for if this had happened. Norman had his ideas of what that plan was, and the fact that he'd abandoned all of his office supplies didn't make the picture any prettier. Norman checked his watch. Only a few minutes had passed since he'd sent Sammy to his sanctuary. Honestly, even if it did make him late, it didn't matter. He needed to check on his friend. Thankfully, he didn't live far from the studio.

Norman knocked at the door but received no response. Well, he'd given uninvited visits under less dire circumstance. He looked under the welcome mat, found the spare key, pulled his sleeve over his hand so as not to leave fingerprints, and unlocked the door. He'd not expected much more difficulty from such a conventional soul as his friend's.

"Grant?" he called, "Grant, I'm worried about you. Please say something." No response. Norman stepped into Grant's house. He was likely just in bed. But Norman had to make sure of it.

The house was slightly more a mess than usual (for a man who kept such a carefully groomed appearance, he wasn't very motivated to keep his house), but nothing was erroneously out of place. Dead, neglected plants still lay uncared for in their pots. Undone dishes were still piled at the sink. The only splashes of colour were the vivid landscape puzzles he'd framed and hung on the walls. No wonder they'd never hung out here very long- aside from the puzzles, it reminded Norman uncomfortably of his childhood home. Mostly, though, he was just glad it didn't match Grant's office.

He went off to Grant's room and opened the door. Nothing. It was as though he had fallen off the face of the earth. Norman sat down on his friend's bed. There was surely a good explanation for this. Perhaps he was off visiting a family member, getting some much-needed support in a stressful time. Maybe he had stayed home today and just plain wasn't here at the moment- doing errands or the like. There was no saying that anything bad had happened, that- Norman's breath grew ragged- that he'd done to himself what his mother had. He said a prayer to himself that Grant was okay.

It was not okay. Three days later, Grant Cohen was reported missing in the local newspaper. Norman was distraught, but he knew it wasn't his fault, and that there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing to do now except to keep living, try to put it out of his mind or at least not blame himself.

At least, that's what he'd thought. A new lead came to him a little over a week after Grant's disappearance. It was noon, and, as per usual, Sammy was looking to head into his sanctuary. This time, though, Wally stopped him at the door. "Not today, Sammy. You know the last time I cleaned up in there? Never. Because you set it to open only when you do that voodoo ritual thing."

"Wally, I can clean it myself!" Sammy snapped. "Let me in."

Wally, used to Sammy's yelling by now, said, "Yeah, well it's not your throat Mr. Drew's gonna jump down if it's not clean enough for him. You're just gonna have to do whatever it is you do somewhere else." Sammy grumbled, but Wally wouldn't budge, so Sammy eventually agreed.

Norman had always wondered what it was that Sammy did in his sanctuary, and so he decided to follow. Sammy made his way to the archives: a circular room lined with bookshelves. Norman waited at the door, sure to look natural as he peered through the crack. He watched as Sammy went around, pushing in various books that had been sticking out. The act of doing so somehow opened up a new door. Norman quietly followed Sammy in.

What was behind the door baffled the mind. It was a giant gorge, resembling a mine shaft. Several cages were suspended from the ceiling using chains. Sammy showed no signs of surprise as he wandered in, picked up a flashlight that had been lying about, and propped himself up against a rock to begin his work. He'd doubtlessly been here before. While Sammy was distracted, Norman silently stalked in and hid behind a rock. At least it was nice and dark.

After a few minutes of work, Sammy stretched out and casually looked to the cage next to him. "So, day nine as an ink creature, huh? I've always wondered, does it hurt, being like that?" Sammy shone his flashlight into the cage, revealing a creature that closely resembled a blob of ink with a human head and arms. The searcher made no verbal response, which did not surprise Sammy at all. Sammy took a blank sheet from his clipboard and handed it to the searcher, who took it and wrote a few words. When he was finished, Sammy asked more questions. "Does it hurt, what we do to you? Do you still get tired, or hungry? Do you regret agreeing to this? I'll be honest. I know this was your choice, but my conscience is beginning to bother me." The searcher looked hopeful for a moment when he said that. "But, I know it's for the best." The searcher drooped like a flower in a drought. With that, Sammy took the paper back and went back to his work.

With nothing much to watch, Norman made a connection: nine days. That was how long ago Grant had disappeared. He wanted to leave and do something- anything-about this new information, but he couldn't risk being seen. Sammy worked away for nearly an hour. Then, he tucked his clipboard under his arm and got up suddenly. Norman followed him out at a safe distance. Once they were far enough from the archives to avoid suspicion, Norman tapped Sammy on the shoulder.

Sammy practically jumped out of his skin. "Norman! Will you quit sneaking up on people?!" he snapped.

"Sorry, I don't mean to startle people," he said honestly. "Anyhow, Joey Drew had some concerns about the song you've been writing and wants me to take a look. May I?"

Sammy looked suspicious a moment, but nonetheless handed the clipboard over to his thoroughly creepy coworker.

Norman found only music on the first page. He looked it over, humming and hawing over it to give the impression that he had been telling the truth. He flipped the page and found that words had been written on the otherwise blank back side of it.

"There's nothing on that," Sammy said. "Let me hold it."

Not knowing what else to do, Norman wordlessly looked down at the paper. Before he could read a word, however, Sammy grabbed onto the page. "I need that _now,_" he snapped. He was clearly trying to keep his voice calm, but it wasn't working. Norman attempted to pull it from him. A look of desperation came over Sammy's face. The paper ripped. Norman looked at the piece he held. The only words it contained were "I never agreed to this." They were in Grant's handwriting.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Sammy grumbled, taking the remaining piece of paper from Norman's now-limp hands. This, Norman thought to himself, would require investigation.


	3. The Death of Susie Campbell

April 20th, 1941.

Susie stared at the door to Joey Drew's office. This was it. She'd spent all morning going through scenarios in her head as to why Joey had called her here.

She was getting laid off, surely. Joey Drew had little in the way of voice work for her now that she couldn't play Alice anymore, so he was going to lay her off. Adding to that the little accident she'd caused with Bendy a week ago, it seemed like that was the most likely reason.

At least, it would have been, if he hadn't called her in at 11:30. He'd done that a bunch of times over the past eight months, and it was always for the same reason: to take her out for lunch, then give her the afternoon off to head to his house and into his bed. She'd convinced herself that there was no problem with it. Sammy wanted to wait until marriage, and, well... well, Susie couldn't quite find a justification that didn't make her out to be a monster. She didn't know why she always fell for his charms, and eventually she stopped even planning to resist. Joey made her feel like the most desired girl in the world, and she just never knew how to say no.

And she always wanted there to be a next time, even if she wouldn't always admit it to herself. She remembered the first time it happened, he'd called her to his office and apologized the next day. He even called her Ms. Campbell- a show of distance and respect. He'd called their affair inappropriate, and an abuse of his power over her. Then, as she was leaving, he'd said, "And Alice?" She'd turned around. "I'll see you around." He'd had a vaguely predatory look on those electric, incredibly blue eyes of his, and it made her heart race. Susie liked it. Since, she'd always paid attention to what he called her: Ms. Campbell (I'm hanging my head, keeping my distance), Susie (we've forgotten last time, right?), or Alice (I'm coming for you). It was fun. Was he all torn up about it, or was he just keeping her on her toes?

The thought of all that made her teeth grind. Thankfully, he'd been smart enough not to do anything of the sort in the last three weeks. He'd be the most tactless man in existence to try such a thing after taking her role away without even telling her to her face. She, however, had tried such a thing. She'd taken him out drinking, gotten him nice and drunk, and asked him: "why _did_ you start pursuing me?" His answer?

He'd just been diagnosed with post-polio disease. He felt powerless. And then he saw a tiny woman, pretty, barely over half his age, under his employment, and in a relationship. He saw a way to feel powerful again. And Alice (he'd called her "Alice" while drunk. She'd taken notice) had just folded like putty in his hands. A little flattery and a little charm was all it took. He did it once on impulse and thought he could leave it at that, but he was wrong.

Susie had left him right then and there and taken a cab home. Needless to say, there was plenty of screaming that night. She wasn't sure Joey even remembered his confession the next morning.

One thing was for sure, though: whether Joey called her Ms. Campbell, Susie, or even Alice today, she was going to summon her inner Alice and take it with grace. If he wanted lunch, she'd slap him. If he wanted to fire her, she'd accept it without a fuss. She'd never show him tears. Never.

Alright, she thought to herself, time to do this. She briskly opened the door and took a seat across from her boss, meeting his eyes with a blank stare on her face. Joey was giving her a warm smile.

"I know how much that part means to you, Susie," he began. Good, her neutral name. "Alice means a lot to me, too. All my characters do! In fact, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I, too, really believe my characters are more than just drawings. They’re alive. They’re a part of us. And I want people to know them as well as I do. I want people to be able to shake their hand, spend an afternoon with em’. Love them. Susie, I’ll be straight with you. I’m putting together a small project… a little ceremony. If it works, a lot of dreams will come true. And I want you to be a part of it. I want you to bring Alice to life once again. What do you say?"

"Ceremony? Well, I- can Sammy come with me?" Susie had no idea what this "ceremony" business could mean, but first and foremost, she wanted to make sure there was nothing lewd about it.

"Why, yes. In fact, he's already coming."

So it wasn't about getting her undressed. This was real- she was going to be Alice again! Susie's heart fluttered at the thought. "Perfect! I won't miss it for the world!" she sang. She got up to leave.

Then, a thought came to her. "Wait," her voice turned cold as steel. "Why me? Why aren't you giving this to Ms. Pendle? I thought you wanted _her_ to be Alice!" Susie grit her teeth and glared at him.

Joey reached over and lifted her chin. "Susie, look at me. All I want Allison to do is stay cooped up in that recording booth. I want that because I have bigger plans for you. You're a better Alice than she ever was, and after this ceremony? Well! Not only are you going to be remembered as the face of Alice Angel for years- no, decades- you'll make her character more famous than you could ever imagine! Someone has to voice her, but you... my real Alice? _You'll be her._"

Susie could practically feel herself tearing up. "Thank you. I'll do it. Come Hell or high water, I'll be there.

"Good. Sammy will pick you up at 7:15."

\---

"So, what <i>is</i> the ceremony going to be like?"

Sammy knew that the ritual was for the best, but looking upon his girlfriend, he couldn't help but feel guilty. "Well, sweetheart, it won't be pleasant," he warned.

"Oh, I don't even care!" she said dreamily, draping herself over him in the back seat of the taxi. "I'm so happy. I'd been agonizing for weeks, hatin' him because I thought he replaced me. But it turns out I'm his favourite after all!" she chirped, adding in, "I'm Alice Angel!" in a sing-song voice.

Sammy smiled. It was good to see Susie so happy. It always was, but especially since she'd been so bad-tempered lately. They really were like twins: two essentially happy people with serious bad sides (hers, admittedly, harder to arouse but harder to live with). That was good: it meant they knew how to handle each other. "Well, that's good. Now, listen. This is going to change more than you think, but I promise, it's gonna be what's best for you. It's going to make you and a lot of other people happy. I can explain the whole thing afterward. Oh, and here we are."

Sammy could feel Susie's nervous anticipation as they entered the building, but it was clearly a pleasant anticipation nonetheless. He led her to a small, empty room, where they met Joey Drew. He smiled warmly. "Good evening to you two! So, Susie, are you ready for our ritual tonight?"

Wanting to look independent, she let go of Sammy's hand. "Yes," she said with confidence.

"Step one, put on this blindfold." He handed her a white piece of cloth. Susie obeyed without hesitation. Joey struck out his fist, allowing it to end up inches from Susie's nose. She did not flinch. Satisfied that she was blinded, he turned to Sammy. "She's ready. Guide her down to the special room with me, alright?"

Sammy nodded. They traveled down to the giant ink machine and went inside of it, finally arriving at a room containing four glass pillars. One of them had a pentagram drawn before it. This did not surprise Sammy: he'd helped draw it. He even knew what kind of pentagram it was. Unlike a revival pentagram, which with a demon's help could revive the dead, or sacrificial pentagram, which sent the slaughtered straight to the Gods, this was a binding pentagram. Joey Drew retrieved a bottle filled with liquid and containing a rag from a cabinet kept on the side of the room. "Alright, Susie," Sammy began. They'd decided ahead of time that he should be the one to guide her through this step. It would be the most difficult part for her. "We're going to put a cloth over your face. All we need you to do now is to breathe in, alright?"

"But why?"

What Sammy supposed to do? Lie to her? "Susie, it's hard to explain. But just trust me that it won't be painful in any way. I promise. Ready?"

Joey put the rag over her face.

"Joey! She hadn't agreed yet!"

"Oh, my bad."

"Damn right, your bad. I'm not doing this to her without her consent. We're waiting until she wakes up to try again."

"Consent? She already agreed to this! You were just asking if she was ready. And if we wait until she wakes up, then she'll know that we're using chloroform on her. Come on, let's just get this done."

Sammy hesitated. Then, he gathered up all 95 pounds of his girlfriend and carried her over to the pentagram. She'd agreed to this earlier. This wasn't wrong. Joey took a razor-sharp blade and a strange, hand mirror-shaped object out of the cabinet. Sammy got the paper with his lines out of his pocket. "Ancient Gods of the world, I summon you. Bind the soul of this sacrifice to the ink. May you reign eternal, amen." He repeated the lines over and over as Joey approached Susie with the knife. Elsewhere in the studio, two carefully tended shrines were glowing.

Then, Susie stirred, subtly at first, then violently. Joey wasn't sure what to do and simply put a hand on Susie's chest, centering his weight over her so she couldn't move. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice raised in panic. Sammy was stuck chanting. If he stopped mid-ritual, God knows what could happen. Susie's cries for help made it a serious test of willpower. Joey looked over to his grimacing friend and began to recite the lines with him. Glad to be able to stop, Sammy went over to his girlfriend and cupped one hand around her face.

"Sh... it's okay. It's gonna be okay. This is only gonna hurt a moment, alright?"

"What's going on, Sammy?"

"Normal procedure. Everything is according to plan. This going to hurt, but only for a bit."

The thought occurred to Sammy that rituals probably weren't meant to be this time consuming, and all of them were delicate. He nodded to Joey. Susie tried to say something, but Joey began to slit her throat before she could speak. Her cries turned into gurgles as he sliced her ear to ear. She took over a minute to faint from panic. Joey got out the seeing tool and held it up. By now, his voice was shaking as he recited the lines. It was only his second time murdering someone, and hadn't gone cleanly. Sammy was so distressed that he wasn't sure he could take over for him. It took several minutes for her to bleed out. When she did, her soul escaped, and, watching its movement through the seeing tool, Joey caught it. He pressed his palm against the glass tube. "Ancient Gods of the world, I summon you now," he said. Ink flooded the tube.

The two men stood in silence for several minutes. Once the shock of the situation wore off a bit, Sammy spoke up. "That. Was an unmitigated disaster!"

"Yes. Next time, I'll make the chloroform five times as strong, and we won't waste time arguing," Joey said blithely. Then, he noticed how upset Sammy looked and realized he ought to show some empathy. "You alright? I'm sure Susie will be ecstatic."

"Sure. I'm fine," Sammy answered, sounding not at all fine. "Does it get easier, Joey? Killing?"

"Well, I can only speak for myself, but this one was actually a lot harder for me. The last one I just knocked out with a paperweight and had his throat slit in not even a minute. It was almost... fun."

Sammy hoped it didn't become 'fun' for him, or Wally Franks would be dead eight times over. A lot of other people, too. He glanced at Susie's corpse and felt like he was staring into the abyss of what he could become. "Well, let's go to the ink nozzle. She'll be coming out soon," Sammy said.

When she did, however, all that came out of the ink machine was a shapeless blob of ink. It fell to the ground with a plop and began writhing, attempting to figure out how to move. It emitted a cry like a baby. Sammy gasped. Joey was first to speak. "Don't worry. I'll figure this out. She won't look like that for long. Just help her back onto the pentagram, Sammy."

Sammy gathered the slug-like ink creature up in his arms like a baby. It-she, he supposed- was heavy, cold, wet, and ugly, and he could feel cold ink running down his shirt, but by now the situation had put him in such a daze that very little could have upset him. Walking back to the room with the pedestals, he looked down blankly at what was supposedly Susie, and gave her his best attempt at a comforting smile. Once he was back at the pentagram, he plopped down with the creature on his lap.

"Done!" Joey called from the other room about a minute later. "Twist in the film, is all. This time, I promise it'll work!"

Sammy got up, moved Susie's corpse, and gently lowered the creature onto the pentagram. "Sorry about this," he said, before repeating the process as before: the chanting, the throat-slitting, the capture and use of the soul. He then went back to the ink machine and held his breath that Susie would turn out alright this time. In minutes that felt like hours, the slender figure of a woman appeared from the machine, panting and shaking. She looked at her hands, felt all over her body, then turned to Sammy with a shocked, ash-grey face. "Sammy, what happened!?" she cried as tears began to fall from her eyes.


	4. A new life

April 21st, 1941.

Joey Drew approached Susie. She began to recoil from him. "You're Alice Angel now," he said, as though nothing in the world was wrong. "Just like you wanted."

Susie took a moment to let that sink in. "What? Please explain. I feel... so strange." She got onto her feet. Her legs felt too long.

It was Sammy's turn now. "He means you really are Alice Angel now. You're going to be a star."

She looked down, breathing unevenly, but smiling. "What the Hell..." she whispered under her breath. "This is wrong." She back up at Sammy. "Sammy, please take me home. And don't let him do anything else to me!" she shot a look at Joey.

"Sure. Sure." He helped her up and felt her tremble as she clung to him. Her distress made sense, he supposed, considering she'd just been murdered. "Just let me get the blindfold-"

"No! How do I know you won't do something else to me?"

"We won't. We don't have a reason to. The ritual went exactly as planned. I promise."

"Y-you meant for it to happen this way?" Susie looked utterly hurt.

"Well, not exactly. We didn't mean for you to wake up, or to need to sacrifice you twice. You were supposed to go to sleep, then wake up as Alice. I'm sorry it didn't go that way. Come on. Let's get you home. I'll explain on the way."

After much hesitation, Susie put on her blindfold again. The two left together and headed for Susie's apartment. Susie got a lot of strange looks along the way and wanted to hide. Sammy explained everything to her. He explained all that he imagined the ink machine could be used for. He explained Joey's plans for her and why Sammy had encouraged her to remember all her old Alice Angel songs- not that she'd needed the encouragement. Afterward, he slept over that night at Susie's request. Susie didn't know why she wanted him to. Even though she knew that sleeping was all they'd be doing since Sammy was awfully prudish, she just wanted someone's arms around her to keep her warm.

The next day, Susie had decided to make the best of her circumstance. She woke up early, put on her pink blush as she did most mornings, and added some pink lipstick over her black lips. It was awfully striking on her pale, grey skin. Her skin. Strange thought. Her eyes were too big for a human. Her neck was too small. She looked like a cartoon. That would take some getting used to, but she told herself that she would. Afterward, she made breakfast for her and Sammy. This was life. This was what it would be like when they were married. This was something she could live with.

At work, almost every eye in the room was on her. Susie wanted to hide. Then she saw Allison. She was the same height as Allison now, and far more an angel. Suddenly, she didn't want to hide anymore. Sammy led her to the little area where she'd be performing for the first time. First performance in an hour. Sammy asked if she thought she could be ready or if they should get Allison in a costume. Susie told him that she'd be ready. Even if letting Allison have the glory wasn't the alternative, she was eager for this. It was a bit of a relief that she'd soon be somewhere where she was meant to look this way. Plus, it was the biggest upside of the situation: she really was to be _the_ Alice Angel: the first living cartoon character in history, and the character she'd always loved. Nothing could take that away from her. She tried her voice on some of the old songs. Her voice was deeper now, but she got used to it. She'd start them off with the character's theme song, and then go onto her favourite, "I'll Be Your Angel." Sammy hadn't given her much instruction except for the length of the performance, so she was free to make it her domain.

The crowd was only of around forty people, mostly mothers and little girls. Sammy had told her that Joey hadn't had much time to advertise. That was okay. She could tell that they loved her. Afterwards, she got off stage and began to interact with the little girls individually. They were looking up at her like she was a Goddess. She signed a few little autographs with the name "Alice Angel." This was life. This was wonderful. She could live with this.

\---

It was almost midnight when Sammy Lawrence returned to Susie's apartment that night. He wasn't sure if they were to going to be cohabitating from now on or if he was just there to check up on her, but either way it felt right. As soon as he entered, he noticed that the heat had been cranked way up, but he just shrugged off his coat and ignored it. Susie had been sitting at the table, waiting for him and reading a book.

“Hey, Susie, I’m home. How was the dance?”

“Good. My friends took the transformation pretty well. How was your time with the other woman?”

Sammy rolled his eyes. Susie had been calling Joey “the other woman” for quite a while. The normalcy was comforting. “Good. Are you feeling sick? It's way too hot in here to be wearing this” Sammy motioned at the sweater that Susie had on. It was his sweater, but she’d burrowed it and never returned it months ago. He didn’t mind. He thought she had looked adorable in it.

“Oh, right," she said, taking it off. "You can have it back. I can’t use it anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because it won’t warm me up anymore. I’m cold-blooded. That’s why the heat’s turned up.”

“Oh, okay,” Sammy studied her face. She didn’t seem too unhappy, but the whole situation suddenly struck him as very delicate and very awkward. “I took the picture you asked for. I should warn you, though: we shouldn’t have waited as long as we did to embalm it. And we were hiding it in the sewer, so... Are you sure you still want to see it?”

“I’ll be fine. Today was a good day. It’s like you said: I love being Alice Angel. I just need to say goodbye to who I used to be, is all.”

Sammy handed her the picture, then looked away nervously. Equally nervously, Susie looked down.

Her body looked nothing like she ever had. Its blood had pooled at the extremities, causing swelling and discolouration. She could see where one leg looked had been hanging into the sewer water as the skin had partially rotted away. In that moment, Susie fully realized that her life would never be the same.

“Sammy,” she said gravely. Even she didn’t know what the next words out of her mouth would be. “Get out.”

“What?” Sammy replied, bewildered.

“I’m sorry. We need to take a break so that I can process what you did.”

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“No. Maybe. I’m taking a break. Maybe I come to trust you again, and maybe I can’t. We’ll see.”

“Susie, let’s talk this over,” he said, going over to put an arm around her.

Susie turned away from him and started to walk to her room. “No. I want to be alone.”

Sammy, now quite irate, followed her. “This affects us both. You can’t just leave me in the dark like this!”

Susie clenched her fists. She just wanted to be away from him. “I’ve been sleeping with Joey Drew!” she yelled. It was the only thing she could think of to make him leave.

Sammy was in stunned silence.

“I'm sorry," she snapped. "Do you feel betrayed? Well,_ you_ can find another girl and it'll like nothing ever happened. I'm going to have to live with this for the rest of my life. You know, it was my time of month when you sacrificed me, and sure isn't anymore. Can I even have children anymore, Sammy? Can I still get old? Die? Do you even know?" As she went on, her voice became weaker.

Sammy was shamefaced. He shook his head.

"Leave." Susie said, willing what little strength she could manage into her voice.

"Hey, I did everything I could to help you through this," he said irritably.

"Everything but tell me the truth about it beforehand. Now, leave. I won't say it again."

Sammy left. Days passed. The crowds for which Alice performed got bigger. She could could accept this. She loved this.

\---

April 30th, 1941

Norman Polk knew he wasn’t good with women. He made people in general wary, but women were much more likely to take him as a threat instead of a weirdo. He figured that that would go double for Susie Campbell. Susie had always reminded Norman of a Pomeranian, its tongue lolling out cheerfully until you did the slightest thing to offend it and it was yapping and snapping at your fingers. Plus, no one was more intimidated by creepy men than small (at least, previously small), conventionally attractive women.

Still, he knew he had to talk to her. He wasn’t blind. He’d noticed her paint-white skin, eight-inch increase in height, and new horns as much as anyone. In fact, he suspected that she didn’t notice him staring because almost everyone that hadn’t gotten used to her was. Being a living cartoon makes one very hard to miss. 

Unlike the rest, however, he had strong suspicions about how her change had come about. And now, he figured that he had gathered enough evidence to leave no doubt in her mind. The only challenge was getting her to come and listen. About a week after her transformation, he’d written a note and gone to tape it to her door. When he’d gotten there, the door was already so full of notes from fans that he was sure his own would only get lost. Contacting her directly like that would probably have been a waste of time anyhow. He'd have to contact her through someone else.

Who? Well, he knew just the person. She was a confident, professional woman with as much tact as he lacked. Not only that, she worked with him, and he had a feeling that she was just who Susie needed to see right then.


	5. A Strange Alliance

May 2nd, 1941.

Alice heard a knock at her dressing room. Huh. Usually her attendant kept the fans away while she was getting ready, or getting ready to leave, as she was now. She opened the door.

“Allison?”

“Susie.”

Alice has stopped going by that name. It felt strange now, but good, even if Allison was probably just trying to deny that she, Alice Angel, had won. “What brings you here?” she asked good-naturedly, keeping the defensiveness out of her voice.

“I wanted to check in on you. This is a big change, and I was wondering how you were doing. Then, I have a surprise for you.”

Alice huffed. “I’m doing great. Amazing. Couldn’t be better.” She could feel herself getting angry and defensive, and she hated it.

“Alright,” Allison replied, clearly having none of it. “Ready for your surprise?”

“Fine.”

“Sit down and close your eyes.”

Alice’s eyes went wide for a split second. “I think I’d prefer to keep them open, actually,” she said defensively.

“Suit yourself. But then it won’t be a surprise. I’m giving you a makeover."

The two sat down in front of Alice’s mirror, and Allison got to work on her. She started with some paint. It was made to be breathable and waterproof, peeling off in seconds when soap was applied. It was the colour of pale skin. Allison applied it all over Susie’s face. Susie sat still. She wasn’t sure what Allison was up to, but whatever it was, she’d take it with grace. And anyhow, she inexplicably liked it.

“Do these file down?” Allison asked, pointing to one of Susie’s horns.

“Yes. They’re like fingernails. They have to be cut and filed or they’ll just keep growing.

“Okay,” Allison replied, digging out a pair of scissors from the bag she’d brought in. She brought them to a spot on her horn just a little above her hairline. “May I?”

“Could you leave a little more? I do have shows tomorrow.”

Allison adjusted the scissors. “How’s this? I thought you’d want them small enough to hide under a loose hat.”

“That’s good.”

Afterwards, Allison began filing them into points. It took almost ten minutes. It dawned on Alice that if Allison had wanted to, she could have just cut her horns clean off. Allison genuinely cared about her desires.

Once Allison was done with the horns, she applied a little blush and some natural-coloured pink lipstick to Susie, plus a bit of brown eye shadow, and she was done.

Susie looked in the mirror. She looked different than she had before, obviously, but from the neck up, she looked almost fully human. The eye shadow even served to make her eyes a little smaller. She took a deep breath and promised herself not to show her rival any emotion. No pleasure. No heartbreak. This was only an oddity.

“Allison, why did you do this?” she said coolly.

“You don’t like it?” Allison’s face fell.

“Oh, I love it. You’re really good at cosmetology. But why are you being so nice to me? I mean, I took that sweet victory away from you. I’m going to be the face of Alice forever.”

Allison looked confused. “What are you talking about? You didn’t take anything. I’ll be just as happy voicing Alice until my next big opportunity comes along no matter how popular you get or how long you decide to do this.”

It suddenly dawned on Susie that Allison had never considered her a rival, or even had much connection to Alice Angel at all.

“Anyhow,” Allison continued, “Giving you this was just a bonus. What really brings me here is Norman. He thinks you might have some information he needs. He was... very vague with me, but he said that he thinks he knows a way to turn you back, or at least close to it.”

Susie thought on that. She could turn back. Did she want that? No. But she could change herself. Make herself warm-blooded again. Maybe- just maybe- she could make herself fertile again.

“Allison, thank you! Where do I meet him?”

“8:30, 935 Douglas avenue.”

“A residential area? You mean, he wants me over at his house?” Susie shuddered. “I don’t know, Allison. He’s kind of a creep.”

Allison nodded in recognition. “Yeah, well... I promise you he’s not that kind of creep. He’s married, for one. And anyhow, I’ll know where you’ll be, and he knows I know. If you were to go missing, he’d be the prime suspect in seconds. Wouldn’t be a good plan.”

Susie mulled that over. “Alright,” she conceded. “I’ll see what he has. But if I die, you’re my murderer.” Susie said half-jokingly.

Allison laughed. “Got it.”

“Alright. See you around. And Allison?”

“Yes?”

Susie gave the voice actress a hug and relished in her warmth. “Thanks a lot. This studio is a crazy place, and it’s a lot less crazy if we’re on the same team.”

Allison smiled and hugged her back.

—-

Norman did a double take at the strange-looking woman in his doorway, taking a moment to notice that her skin was grey from the neck down.

“Hello, Alice. Or is it still Susie? I didn’t recognize you for a second, what with the hat, and the, uh...” he gestured at her face. The awkwardness was palpable and Susie looked close to angry already.

“Hello,” she said, keeping her voice businesslike. “Allison knows I’m meeting you tonight and I have a bottle of self-defence spray in my pocket, so don’t try anything. It’s Alice, by the way. Susie is for people who know me.”

Norman looked slightly hurt. He pulled back his hand. Alice noticed a wedding band on his finger and felt a bit guilty about being so cold. “Alright,” Norman said coolly, “I get it. You don’t like me, and I’m not good at making that better, so I won’t try. But I have something I need to show you. Come in.”

Susie stepped into his house. Nothing was overly notable about it. It was actually fairly cozy, and she could see a few children's toys on the floor. He led her to a table with a two files on it. One was labelled “G. C.” The other was labeled “other evidence.” He opened the former to reveal a few pieces of lined paper, written on with two sets of handwriting, and two photos. One photo was of a blob of ink with arms and a head, peaking out from between the bars of a cage. Another was of a scrawny human figure made of ink, complete with legs and glowing eyes.

“So,” Norman began, “I really don’t know how to start this off. But I know that something is going on. Do you remember Grant Cohen’s disappearance?”

“No.”

“Fair enough. You didn’t know him. Wally called us down and to tell us that he’d had a mental breakdown. He was announced missing days afterwards. Well, this,” he pointed at the picture, “is where he went.”

“He became a blob of ink,” Alice replied incredulously. She looked at the picture. She saw no hint that it was faked or tampered with, but it couldn’t be...

“Alice, read these. A little interview I had with the blob in that cage.”

Alice picked up a page.

_Grant, is that you?_

_Yes_

_Who did this to you?_

_Joey Drew. He knocked me out and I woke up like this._

_I’m going to get him arrested. You won’t be in there forever. Hang tight._

_Thank you so much._

Alice was stunned. “Oh my God. He’s done this to other people? We need to go to the police.”

Alice stood to get up, but Norman caught her arm. “No,” he said firmly. A bit of panic underlaid his voice. “We have enough evidence to get them to start an investigation. But you know what will happen if we corner a satanist? He’ll do more satanism to try to get out of it. Everyone who knows about this will be in danger. You will be, I might be, Grant will be, Sammy will for sure-“

“You know about Sammy?”

“Yes. Now, I have experience with this, Alice. And I’m telling you, we can’t go to the police until we have enough evidence to get Joey Drew led out in handcuffs. And we have to do it discreetly. So, are you with me?”

Alice hesitated.

“If we don’t do anything, they’re not going to stop.”

“I’ll do it. But tell me, Norman. How much evidence are we going to need?”

“Honestly? I know one thing I want. A picture of him in the act. Do you think it would be a good idea to get one for Sammy as well? Is he going to become immediately dangerous if he feels the walls closing in?”

Alice thought on that. “I don’t think so.”

“Good. I don’t have nothing of him, but I don’t have much. Enough to bring him to court, anyhow. In the meantime, I need you to get back with Sammy,”

Alice raised an eyebrow. “First of all, how did you even know we were together? Secondly, how did you know we broke up? Thirdly, why?”

It could be useful," Norman explained, ignoring her first two questions. "You could get information out of him. You could get the keys to the studio if he has them,"

"He does."

"Good! And, most importantly, you could find out whenever they're going in there so we can follow them in. We’re going to follow them every Wednesday, but other than that, I don't have a clue what their patterns are."

"Wednesdays. That's when Sammy and Joey always hung out. But how did you find out about that? And how did did you know about my relationship with Sammy?" Susie asked. Norman's excitement over the investigation was contagious, but he was still creeping her out a little, and she wasn't feeling especially trusting.

"I visit Grant often. He's lost count of the days, but he says that he only grows legs when he's not been transformed for a while. He loses his legs every Thursday, and that's when he tells me they've come to experiment on him. Clearly, Wednesday nights are when they do it. As for your other question, well, I just notice things. And it's not like you two are particularly... inexpressive. Sorry. Keeping private and wanting to know what's going on around me come really easily to me, but we're partners now, so I'll tell you anything about what I know or what I'm seeing if it makes you comfortable. I want your trust and I want you informed."

Alice smiled. "Informed? Partners? I like the sound of that. Thank you, Norman. Oh, and... Allison said you might know how to change me?"

"You bet I do. They do all kinds of things with that ink machine. I promise, once the dust settles, you'll have the opportunity to change yourself however you like."


	6. Fancy Meeting You Here

May 6th, 1941. Tuesday, 10 pm.

"You're sure this is where they're hiding them?" Norman asked, reluctant to enter the dank, dark sewer.

"What?" Alice yelled. She was already a dozen feet into the sewer, and the machinery in there was very noisy. She turned to run back to Norman's side.

"I said, you're sure this is where they're hiding the bodies?"

"That's what Sammy told me. About my body, anyhow. They aren't trained to preserve corpses. They're doing their best, but this offers another layer of protection for them. You know, hides the smell."

Norman sighed. "Alright. Here, why don't you hold the gun? If one of us here could fight something off bare-handed, well, it wouldn't be you."

Alice gave him a strange look. "What's this for? Where did you even get it?"

"I got Thomas to lend it to me. He thinks I need it to shoot a wolf that's been roaming around my property. Of course, I don't even live in the country, but it gives me a reason to ask for it again, and keep it a few days. Y'know, if I can't trap it right away."

"Why would you need to use a gun on a trapped wolf?"

"Well, I know nothing about that kind of thing. But Thomas, he insisted on telling me how to trap a wolf, and how I absolutely had to shoot it afterwards. He said that nothing is more dangerous than a wolf in a trap. They're scared and violent. Not like you can just come in close and finish them off, no matter how hurt or starved they look. And if they do manage to chew off their own leg, well, then you have a real problem. A scared, angry wolf with a grudge against the world. No, there's nothing less wise than not shooting them."

"Philosophical. Now can you show me how to shoot it? without demonstrating, of course."

He did, and with that they were off. The sewer was dark, and Norman had to lead the way with a flashlight. Alice stayed right behind him. Though she wasn't dreading seeing the bodies, she had to admit that she could care less for the cold and smell of the sewer. Nonetheless, she knew that they had to find out as much as they could about the studio's secrets and, as Norman put it, "secret layout" in order to incriminate Joey Drew. After walking in silence for about five minutes, Norman's flashlight came upon something strange. It seemed as though someone had moved a desk into a little nook in the sewer.

"What's this doing here?" Susie wondered aloud. 

"I don't know," Norman admitted, "We'll have to search it and find out."

Just as Norman reached for the desk, however, the two began to hear chattering underneath the loud noise of whatever machinery was being used to treat sewage. From behind a corner, three abominations emerged mere feet away. They looked like mutilated, twisted versions of the butcher gang brought to life. Alice screamed and looked to Norman for instruction. With a look of apparent calm on his face, he put the flashlight in his teeth, tossed aside Charley's wrench, and punched him in the face. Alice felt sharp edges hit her. Unable to see what hit her, she swung the shotgun, hitting something and pushing it out of the way. She fired several times in the general direction of where she thought it might be. Meanwhile, Norman was wrestling with Edgar and taking hits from its robotic arm. She joined him, and together they knocked the creature unconscious.

Norman lowered himself to the ground.

"Oh my God, are you okay?"

Norman swayed a little, then responded. "Yeah. I was getting tunnel vision, so I hit the floor in case I was going to pass out. Sorry."

"Oh, good. It's normal," Alice said. It seemed that touching those creatures gave her a bit of tunnel vision as well.

Now safe, the two stayed in silence a while, both thinking the same thing. "Norman? Do you think those were... y'know? Ex-people like me?"

Norman shrugged. "What else could they be?" he whispered. He turned to the desk. There were a few sheets of music on it, as well as a tape recorder. Norman grew excited. This must have been Sammy's hideout! Maybe the tape recorder would incriminate Joey Drew somehow. He pressed play. "I love the quiet, and it's hard to come by in these busy times," came a voice. But it clearly wasn't Sammy's. It was Jack Fain's. "And sure, it may stink to high heaven down here. But it's just perfect for an old lyricist like me. Sammy's songs always got some bounce, but if I didn't get away once in a while, they wouldn't have any words to go with them. So I'll keep my mind a-singin' and my nose closed."

Norman sighed. "Okay. Not what I was hoping for. But what can we do but press on? Let's find the coffins."

"Wait," Alice said, "Jack comes down here because it's quiet."

"So?"

"So that mechanical noise must not be a normal part of the sewer system. What could it be? And, where did it go?"

Norman hadn't realized until right then because they had just been fighting off the butcher gang, but Alice was right. The noise was gone. It had left right after Alice had shot the gun. "Who knows. Good catch, Alice. There must be something going on deep underground here. Grant mentioned a machine. We need to add checking the basement to our to-do list for the night."

Alice nodded. The two set off again.

Eventually, they came to the coffins. Susie took a picture of Grant's body, and Norman of Susie's. Norman suggested it for Alice's sake, and Alice agreed for Norman's sake, but the result was that it wasn't a terribly emotional task for either of them. Norman noted that the camera made a rather loud snapping noise. They'd have to make a quick escape after they snapped the picture of Joey. After that, Norman took Alice to the gorge.

"That's strange," Norman commented, pulling at one of the chains.

"What's strange?"

"Grant is usually right here. It seems like they've lowered his cage with some kind of pulley system."

"Hm. Well, I guess that answers the question of how we'll get down there to investigate," Alice said, putting down the gun and carefully stepping onto one of the suspended cages. 

"Woah, there. No offence, but I think the experienced sneak here should be doing that."

Alice shook her head. "I'm lighter, and you're stronger. What if I can't hoist you back up?"

Hesitantly, Norman handed Alice the gun. "Alright, but be careful," he said. "Who knows what's down there. Joey could be down there."His gaze lowered. You should not be wearing high-heels. Give me those. You need to be very, very quiet."

Alice took off her shoes and handed them over in exchange for the gun. Norman began to lower her down. The chains creaked. Alice kept her gaze focused forwards at the wall. That's what they always told people in situations like this: don't look down. As she was being lowered, that same mechanical noise from before began again, this time sounding louder and nearer. Norman nodded to her and gave her a thumbs up. After what felt like about three levels of descent, the cage hit the floor. If there was any noise at all from it, it was well-covered. The decoration of the environment Alice had landed in called to mind a shrine made of metal. The room was very small, with a doorway on either side of it. Carefully, Alice climbed down from the cage and peeked around the corner to her left. That was where Norman had said Grant's cage should be, but more importantly, it was where the noise was coming from.

She followed the noise down another corridor, and that's when she saw it: a monstrous, unfamiliar machine chugging along. Far stranger, though, was the man kneeling beneath the machine's giant pipe. His arms were outstretched like he was praying, or waiting to catch something. There were speckles of ink on his blond hair. It was Sammy.

Alice took a picture with her camera, noting that the machine's noise masked that of the camera entirely. Then, unsure of what else to do, she approached. Looking back, Alice would see it as a stupid thing to do, but there were no thoughts in her actions now. One foot in front of the other. Norman seemed to always walk on the balls of his feet, and so Alice did the same. Sammy never could have heard her anyhow, but she felt the need to sneak. She tapped Sammy's shoulder. He whipped around to look at her and his eyes went wide. At that moment, a perfect Charley fell out of the machine and hit him in the face. After recovering from the initial shock, he grabbed all the creatures limbs in one hand with a practiced grace, then got up and turned off the machine. The noise died down until the only thing Alice could hear was the frustrated chatter of the Charley in Sammy's hands. The two stared at each other in silence for several seconds before Sammy spoke up.

"What are doing here? How did you even get in? And where..." he pointed at her gun, "did you get _that?"_

Alice wasn't sure what to say. She stayed silent for several seconds before starting with the easiest question. "Norman gave me the gun." A pause. "I- I have to go." Susie began to run. She couldn't handle this. But then, she stopped and turned. "No, wait. You have a lot to answer for, too. You go first, then I'll go. Why are you here? Is that Grant?" she pointed to the Charley.

"Susie. I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm done running away from the question. Why are you here? Why are you ever here?" Alice cocked the gun at Sammy. She wasn't looking up at him like she had to before, but looking straight in his eyes. In this moment, she couldn't feel less like a tiny little girl, and she liked it.

Sammy had the decency to look down, ashamed. "I come here with Joey Drew every week. Before it was here, we'd go to his home, or the woods, or someplace else. We've been experimenting with this machine. As for why I'm here now, well... we're using a volunteer for experimentation. There's no way to know for sure since he's mute, but I think he wants to revoke consent. Joey said that we can't turn him back because we don't know enough about the machine. We have more urgent priorities right now- ones that are very important to this studio. But I didn't think it was okay to just not work on getting him his human body back, so I came here to work on it myself. That's why I'm here."

Alice wasn't sure what to do with the information. Under different circumstances, she might have softened up given why Sammy was there. But now, she was determined to keep her dominance over the situation. She nodded. "Very well. As for how I got here, I snuck your key away from you for long enough to buy a copy. I'm here to get back what I lost, and make sure it won't happen to anyone else. And you're coming with me. Escort me to the abyss, my little errand boy. We have work to do."

Sammy, not knowing what else to do, obeyed.


	7. Plans and Execution

The next Norman saw of Alice, she was leading Sammy Lawrence to him at gunpoint.

"Found one," she said confidently, "now what she do with him?"

Norman was horrified. "Alice! Um... how much have you told him about the situation?" his voice was surprisingly calm.

Sammy spoke up. "I know that you're trying to put an end to what's going on. I know she stole my key. And she told me about who the volunteer was. That's it."

Norman took to pacing. "Alice. This was a mistake. I hope you know that. We have enough information to have the police investigate him. We don't have enough for an arrest. What are we going to do now? How will we make sure he doesn't tell Joey? Heck, how do I know he won't be a danger himself?"

Sammy looked stunned. Of course, he knew that his actions warranted jail time. But he never thought it would happen. "No! Please! I'll join you. Let me tell my side of the story."

"Very well. But make it quick."

"It's true that I got addicted to the dark arts. And it's true that I helped kill Susie without knowing all the details. But I swear, I have never helped murder anyone else. I thought that that searcher was a volunteer! And I wanted to help him. Ask Susie. I came here alone because I wanted to help him."

"It's true," Susie said.

"And I really, really don't want to go to prison. But as much, I don't want this machine's potential to be wasted. It could be used to cure disease and disability, or make people into whatever they want. But I'll give it up. I promise. How's about, I work with you, you tell the police that I was just pretending to be on Joey's side. Deal?" Nervously, he offered Norman his hand.

"How do we know you're on our side?"

"At the first indication I'm not, you can just give the evidence to the police. Okay?"

Norman brushed the hair out of his face and stared into Sammy with his dark, accusing brown eyes, as though looking for some sign of deceit. "Fine," he sighed. "You're off the hook. You don't even have to give up this machine's 'potential'. We're handing this thing over to the authorities as soon as possible, and they'll figure out what it can do in a _safe, ethical,_ and _supervised_ setting. You'll probably be a hero for all you can tell them about it," he added bitterly.

Though he got the sense that Norman wanted him punished, Sammy finally let out the breath he had been holding. "Thank you. Now, do you know about the God of the machine?"

"'God of the machine'? No. Take us to him," Norman demanded.

"Very well."

Sammy led the two down to the bottom of the studio, allowing them in through the main entrance to the ink machine. The group came upon a rounded part of the wall. Sammy tenderly placed a hand against it. "I don't know if even Joey knows about this. But there's something alive in there. I noticed that a sound like pounding at metallic walls would sound whenever we were really loud. Joey passed it off as a pest infestation, but that didn't make sense to me. These are thick walls. Just the noise of rats scurrying around wouldn't be enough. Listen."

Sammy threw a rock against the machine, and it bounced off noisily. Three knocks, like the pounding at a metal wall, were heard. "Good Evening, my Lord!" Sammy boomed, trying to make his voice sound as reverent as he could while still being loud enough to carry through the metal. The... thing pounded on the walls again to confirm what he had heard. Norman's gaze hardened. He was expecting some nonsense from this cultist. All just steps in the process, he told himself... just what it would take to get Joey imprisoned, Grant freed, and this machine supervised. All to be expected.

"Lord?" Alice asked.

"Yes. I have been worshiping the gods since Joey introduced me to them. But now!" He turned to face them. His voice was smooth and fervent, like a passionate cultist. "Now we have one right with us! In the machine. Making it tick. Making it work miracles. Whatever this machine does, it is my lord's will. But I haven't told Joey yet. I don't fully trust him anymore."

As Sammy finished his speech, something no one could have predicted occurred. Black ink spread across the wall, reading **I learned to do this since last time you were here.**

"Sammy?" Alice said. "You might want to turn around."

Sammy turned, and his eyes went wide with surprise. Then, he shouted, "Good! Thank you lord! Have you heard my prayers?"

**I can hear and see you at your shrine. But not for the reason you think. I can see through the Bendy cutout. I cannot help you**

There was a pause. Inside his chamber, Bendy carefully planned his next words: **unless you set me free.**

Sammy tentatively knocked at the cold, thick metal metal of the walls. He had no key to enter it. "My friend here has a plan to get the ink machine out of Joey Drew's hands. Then, you will be free."

Norman had left and come back with a Bendy cutout. He would have felt even more ridiculous about this if he had to shout through a wall like a maniac. Norman continued, facing the cutout. "Your power could be useful for us. We'll put cutouts everywhere. Your job will be to tell us when Joey is planning a murder so that we'll be able to catch him in the act. You understand? Using ink on the walls."

**Understood.**

With that, the three of them gathered as many Bendy cutouts as they could find and put them everywhere. They put one in Sammy’s office, in recording booth, Alice’s dressing room, a few in the ink machine, and a few in the gorge. Sammy found that, curiously, Joey’s office already had one in it. “Lord? Does Joey Drew know of you?”

**Yes. But he does not know about the cutouts.**

“Good. Thank you for your aid, my lord,” Sammy said, lowering himself to his knees before the cutout. “We will set you free.”

With that, the trio regrouped.

“Well, Norman?” Alice asked, “Is that all for tonight?”

Norman nodded in satisfaction. “This went better than I ever could have hoped.” With that, they left.

For the first time, Alice was hopeful that the plan would go well. They had an insider on their side and an alarm system. All they had to do was get that picture, and she’d be free. She was a bit nervous about where Sammy’s loyalties lay, but they had the evidence to condemn him. Although, as she lay warm in his arms that night, the thought was in the back of her mind: what if he was dangerous? What if he could shut them up before they ever suspected a thing?

That thought was at the front of Norman’s mind as he revised his resume that night. He was trying to put Sammy’s cultish behavior out of his mind on one hand, but on the other, he felt justified in his fear. If that creature, or the God he worshiped, gave him the slightest reason not to trust him, Norman was out. Joining the damned wouldn’t help them any. His loyalty was to himself first.

—-

May 12th, 1941

Joey concentrated on keeping an alert look on his face. It wasn’t easy, given that the accountant before him was currently putting him to sleep with his blather.

“In conclusion, while our income is certainly on an upward trajectory, the company will still most likely be unable to pay the money owed to the IRS by the end of the year. I’m sorry, Mr. Drew, but we have to begin selling assets if we want to keep the company alive.”

“Mr. Cohen-"

“Um, it’s Mr. Dawson.”

“Right. Mr. Dawson. I respectfully disagree with you. You said it yourself- people are loving Alice! We’re selling tickets at an exponential rate! She’s a success!”

The accountant ground his teeth, and, through no small effort, kept his voice calm. “Yes. We took that into account. Now, since you didn’t hear me the first time. If the company earns within the top 20% of our projected income, the studio will survive without selling any of its assets- aside from Bendyland, that is. It has to go even if we make the maximum projected income. And yes, that includes the projected income from Alice’s shows. If the studio only manages within the bottom 30% of the expected income, we’re on the streets no matter what we do. In other words, chances are as good as not that the company’s survival depends on selling assets. And I don’t know what your special projects are, but if you cut the spending in half on those, perhaps we could at least keep Heavenly Toys. But sir, we cannot keep waiting for another miracle. The Alice Angel show is likely the only one we’ll get.”

Joey sighed and closed his eyes. “Very well. Thank you for the advice.”

“So I can have the team put some of our assets on the market?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Sir, we need to be able to sell them on time!”

Joey glared at the accountant. “Give me a month. You’re dismissed.”

Was every accountant in this damned place just as dry and unimaginative as the one he’d fired? If they needed a miracle, then by the Gods, he’d get them a miracle!

Joey began to feel the smallest prickle of fear. Fear that he’d lose everything. Lose his ink machine. He checked to see who he was seeing next: Bertrum Piedmont, in for his monthly meeting on the progression of Bendyland. Well, that would be a pain. But, perhaps it was the miracle he needed. Since he’d dismissed Mr. Cohen’s replacement ten minutes early, he at very least had some time to plan things out. When Bertrum arrived, he put on his best smile. Bertrum wasn’t going to like this or agree to it without a fight.

“Bertrum. Please, do sit down.” Bertrum sat down.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Drew. Are you ready for my progress report on Bendyland?”

“Actually, I have a proposal for you. What if, instead of opening Bendyland outside sometime next year, we open it inside at the beginning of June? Think of it! All those early Summer crowds lining up to see your creations! And that way, there will be plenty of time for word to get around before summer vacation hits and the tickets really start flying. What do you say?”

Joey was smiling widely. Bertrum’s already puffy face was puffed up further in indignation. “I say that’s ridiculous, and impossible,” he said coolly. That cool rage was definitely not going to stay cool long.

“Oh, don’t worry! I’m not expecting you to have everything ready! Just set up all you can. You can do it right in the warehouse, and put a big tarp that says, “coming soon” over everything else. I trust you can manage that, right? Unless,” Joey put just the smallest amount of doubt into his voice so that Bertrum’s pride would be on the line, “it’s too much for you?”

Bertrum looked ready to explode. “It is not too much for me! It isn’t enough! Listen here, Mr. Drew. I am not going to show the world a half-made amusement park in the name of Colossal Wonders. I have a reputation to maintain. We agreed that Bendyland would be complete and open early next year. And that’s what you’re going to get. Have I made myself clear?”

Joey stood up. Bertrum rose to meet him. “Bertrum, I am your employer, and you will not raise your voice at me!”

“Oh, ho, ho. Mr. Drew, I think we both know that you need me more than I need you. Financially, that is. And finishing this park is a point of pride for me. I don’t even care if the rumours about your financial duress are true.” At this point, Joey silently cursed Grant Cohen for what had to be the millionth time. “Do you know how easy it would be to just change some design features, open the amusement park without the theme, and still end up turning a profit? Now, I don’t necessarily want that. Theme parks are great for my reputation and bottom line. But I’ll do that before I open a half-formed park in some storage unit!”

“Very well. You’ve made yourself clear. You will never see that happen. Next order of business: I would like to know about your succession plan. Get whoever will one day take your place and tell them to come to my office this time next week. You could have them make the progress report as practice. You see, I plan on having this partnership between Colossal Wonders and Joey Drew Studios last for decades, and, well, we both know you’re nearing retirement age.”

Bertrum’s face twisted in disbelief and disgust. As though this joke of a company would last another quarter of a decade! “Very well, Mr. Drew. I’m sure my son will be pleased to meet with you. Oh, and nice cane. I see you’ve grown tired of always limping about.”

Joey ground his teeth. Bertrum had a knack for sniffing out weakness, no matter how hard he tried not to show any. “Why, thank you, Bertie. They’re all the rage in France. And nice hair. If only it actually belonged to you.” Why not? One way or another their professional relationship was nearing its end. There was no sign of change on Bertrum’s already annoyed face, but if Joey knew anything about how sensitive the man was, he’d be mad about that for quite a while. For now though, Bertrum simply stood up and left. Good riddance.


End file.
